A picture and completely unrelated story

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© Greg Wasserstrom

The other night I was on the sub­way with a bunch of my friends, we were on our way to the Ange­lika to see Perse­po­lis (Incred­i­ble, by the way. See it!). The train was packed so we were crammed in and I was stand­ing above a cou­ple, prob­a­bly in their late fifties, the man was wear­ing a heavy wool pon­cho. The woman had a dig­i­tal cam­era and took a pic­ture of the man, then they hud­dled together to look at the lit­tle screen. They laughed. The man said, “You can air­brush that out.” I thought to myself that that was pretty quaint that he still says air­brush, but then he cor­rected him­self. “Pho­to­shop it. You can Pho­to­shop it.”

He said the words like he was han­dling a some novel new gad­get. And then he repeated the them, only this time with a melody. He sang the them, like this:

PHO-​​TO SHOP IT,” four syl­la­bles, four notes: F, F, E, D flat.

Pho­to­shop didn’t have a jin­gle — until now.